Braving the Rapids
by clair beaubien
Summary: Tag to 4.22 The boys aren't talking to each other and Bobby is running out of ideas to make it happen. Bobby's POV.


So, Sam's been scuffing around the place like he's a dog waiting for a beating. Dean's been storming around like he's a volcano waiting to blow. I been trying to take care of the one and avoid the other, but Sam wants his privacy and Dean wants an audience.

Lucky me.

"If I'd listened to him, if I hadn't pushed him away, if I'd let him talk to me instead of..."

I'd try to stop him but I figured he could stand to feel guilty just a little bit longer. I wasn't there in that motel room, but if he'd called Sam his brother instead of a monster, things mighta turned out a lot different.

Not different for the world, not different for the Apocalypse - I figure Lilith was gonna get herself killed by Sam one way or another, even if she had to smother herself with his jacket - but it mighta been different for Sam though, different for Sam _and_ Dean. They might've still had some distance to cross back to each other, but at least they'd be starting both from the same side of the river. Now, they might as well have the Niagara Rapids between them for how dangerous they seemed to think it would be to try and get any closer to each other. Sam was keeping to my yard and my junk cars, though the weather was more like late October than early May. Dean was sticking at the house and avoiding doors and windows like if he caught a glimpse of Sam, one of them was gonna burst into flame.

I coulda just walked away from Dean, tuned him out, drove to Pittsburgh to save my ears, but I knew he needed to talk as much as Sam needed to be alone. He was working his way into figuring this all out and berating himself out loud was just part of the process.

"Dean – thinking on what _shoulda_ happened sure isn't gonna change what _did_ happen. You and Sam gotta get your heads back on straight or we'll never get this figured out." Then I pulled out my trump card. "There's people _dying_ out there Dean. We can find a way to stop it."

Somebody else in trouble, that'll nail Dean every time. He nodded and scrubbed his hand down his face like he could scrub away yesterday.

"Right. Yeah. So – what do I do?"

_Go out and talk to your brother, y'idjit_, I wanted to say. But I wasn't sure he'd brave those rapids just yet.

"Make sure dinner don't burn or boil over. I'm gonna go outside for a minute."

I didn't tell Dean though I figured he could guess; I was going outside to see if I could work some mojo on his brother. One Winchester down, I figured. One to go.

Lucky me.

Sam I found out in my yard sitting on the hood of a car. He had a book in his lap but his hands were shaking and he was looking as bad as he did the night he slipped the panic room. I didn't think he was going through withdrawal again; I thought he was exhausted, hungry, and cold.

"Got some stew warming on the stove for supper, be ready in fifteen minutes." I told him. He shook his head.

"How about a bed?" I tried next. He only shook his head harder.

Yeah, he feels bad. Yeah, maybe he took in enough demon blood to change himself into something he thinks he can't bear. Yeah, he let himself get tricked by that bitch into breaking the final seal.

And _yeah_, I know what Dean said he found in the trunk of the car outside that convent.

But _no_, it don't change how I feel about this boy.

"Come inside Sam. Sitting out here isn't gonna do anybody any good."

"I can't go back inside. You should let me - just - you should put me back downstairs before I hurt anybody else."

"And you should get your head outta your ass."

I was hoping to draw a little fire with that remark. All I got was sadness.

"You know what I did."

"And I know what you _still_ gotta do, and you can't do it if you don't eat and you don't sleep and you don't talk to your brother."

That one stung him, finally. And I meant it to.

"Dean - no - Dean doesn't - he shouldn't be anywhere near me. Nobody should."

Any other time, I might've - no, I _would've_ - smacked him a good one across the back of the head for feeling so sorry for himself. But not today. That boy was dealing with two years of guilt or better. From Dean making the deal – having to make the deal in Sam's mind - and Sam working thirty hours a day, ten days a week trying to break it, to Dean going to hell and coming back and Sam already as hard as flint and set on his path only none of us knew it then. He felt guilty for that other fella opening the Devil's Gate in Wyoming, he felt - he _radiated_ - guilt for killing Lilith when anybody with a brain - or a heart - could see he'd been damn well tricked into it.

That boy tried his _damnedest_ to do the right thing and ended up getting himself slapped right across the face with it, and he felt guilty about that too.

"Come in the house Sam. Have something to eat. Put your head down and get some sleep."

"_I can't."_ Sam insisted. "_Please."_

"Sorry kid, that maybe works on Dean, not on me. I want you to come inside. You don't have to see Dean, you don't have to do anything but get something to eat and get yourself some sleep. I want you to come inside."

"Please don't make me Bobby. If you're not gonna lock me downstairs, don't make me come back inside."

"And if you think you need to be locked up, what good's it gonna do anybody to have you prowling my yard?"

Well he didn't have any answer, no logical answer anyway.

"You protecting Dean?" Seemed a fair question seein's how that's the motivation behind almost anything Sam does.

"I can't remember the last time I protected anybody."

"I remember the _first_ time you protected somebody." I told him. "You were three, a big old bee got in my house. Your Dad was making Dean have a nap and you armed yourself with my fly swatter and sat on his bed next to him 'cause no way was that bee getting near Dean while you were drawing breath."

"Did I get it? Did I get the bee?"

"No, the bee got back out an open window, and John found you sound asleep, curled up with Dean."

"So I _didn't_ protect Dean."

I gave him an 'idjit' look.

"Puttin' salt down is still protection even if nothing tries to get in, isn't it? Going in armed is protection even if you never draw your gun. Standing in front of your brother is protecting him even if nothing is staring you down."

"Not when I'm the thing he should be afraid of."

He believed that, he _truly_ believed that, that he was some kind of monster.

"You known me a long time Sam, haven't you?"

"Yeah." He nodded as he said it, trying to be as polite in answering me as he could.

"And might be I could be called crazy, but when it comes to anything to do with hunting, y'ever known me to be _stupid_?"

"_No." _Even that he said like maybe I thought he _had _said it and he was ready to apologize right here and right now even though he hadn't.

"So if I thought you were a threat to me, to Dean, to yourself, to _anybody_, you think I'd be leaving you free to wander around? You think I wouldn't already have you back in the panic room if I thought you'd be safer there?"

Well, Sam looked away and down, at his hands or his feet or the hole he wished he could dig for himself to hide in.

"It's not what either of us thinks," he said.

Kid. _Oh kid_.

"What do you think Dean thinks?" I asked.

"You know what he thinks."

"Tell me."

"I'll come in later Bobby. _I promise._ I will. I just - _please._" He turned those eyes up to me, eyes full of pain and determination and tears. Inside those eyes I could see a scared little kid who knew he had to suck it up and take on what would terrify most adults. And I could see the full grown man who wanted to - but knew he _couldn't _- spare that little kid.

"Twenty minutes. You got twenty minutes then I haul you in the house myself. You know I can. And you know I will."

He nodded and he tried to thank me but the words didn't come out so he nodded again and tried to find his place in that book he wasn't reading.

I went back in the house.

Dean was in the kitchen, standing at the sink, looking out the window. He couldn't see Sam from there.

"So - so - what were you and Sam talking about?" He asked me without turning around. Guess he did see us.

"We were talking about you."

"Me?" That made him turn around. "What about me?"

"Sam's afraid -."

"_Of me?"_

Give me a chance to finish a sentence, why don't you?

"He's afraid of himself Dean. He's afraid of hurting you. And it don't help that he hasn't eaten or slept since we don't know when. You hafta get out there and help him."

Dean rolled his shoulders like he was thinking on something unpleasant.

"I don't know how to help him."

"The hell you don't. You're the only one who _does_ know how to help Sam."

"Yeah? You didn't seem to think so when we had him downstairs."

Well, might be he had me on that one.

"My being wrong _then _just proves that I'm right _now_. You're the only one who_ can_ help Sam, 'cause you're the only one he'll listen to."

"Like he listened to me all this past year?"

"Like he'd listen to you _now _if only you'd _talk _to him."

He shook his head but it wasn't refusal, I could tell. It was feeling like he didn't have a clue what to say to Sam or how to say it.

"Look Dean, he's coming in in a little while. Get him to eat, get him to sleep."

"Yeah. Whatever. All right." He scrubbed a hand down his face. "I'll try."

"You doin' okay Dean?" I thought I saw something in his face. Something I wasn't sure I recognized. Something for sure I didn't like seeing on his face.

"Yeah. Fine. Perfect. Why?"

More than being tired. More than being worried. It was like the end of his rope was in sight.

"Get some sleep yourself, Dean. How about we make today the last day any of us tries to drive ourselves into the ground."

He looked at me like that was an impossible request and I was an idiot for suggesting it, then he left the kitchen, aiming for my library.

The front door opened though and Sam was standing there and they looked at each other like they each thought the other was about to go postal.

"_Sam_." Like seeing his brother there was a complete and total surprise to Dean.

"_Hey_." And vice versa.

"So - um - there's gonna be dinner ready soon. Stew."

"I - uh - y'know - there's - um - and I have to -."

"Yeah. Sure. I know. It's - yeah."

I really wanted to whack both of them.

"So, yeah, I - uh -." Sam gestured with the book in his hand like that explained everything. He turned to go into the library and Dean turned back to the kitchen. He met my eyes and I gave him_ my_ 'you're an idiot' look.

"_Sam_." Dean said while he was still looking at me. He turned when Sam answered him.

"Yeah?" Sam sounded so tired.

"You want biscuits or corn bread with your stew?"

"Uh - but - I thought -." Sam sounded confused as though they'd just tacitly agreed he didn't have to eat and now Dean was reneging. "I'm not hungry."

I watched Dean deflate like all his air had been let out.

"Then what are you?"

"_What_?"

"Cold. Tired. What?"

Dean was sounding tired but concerned. Sam was looking tired and confused.

"_What_?"

Dean just scrubbed his face again and walked out my front door. Great. Now Dean would be prowling my yard and Sam would be hiding inside the house. Same song, second verse.

Just great.

But just like that, before Sam had even stirred a step, Dean was back in the door, standing in front of Sam, looking now like _he_ was the one waiting for a beating.

"I'm sorry Sammy."

"What? Sorry for _what_?"

"Sorry that I didn't watch out for you better. Didn't take care of you better. What happened to you, what you thought you had to do - that's all my fault."

"Dean - you didn't make me do any of it."

"And I didn't stop you either, did I? I didn't give you one good reason to _want_ to stop. I might as well have opened the door and _pushed you_ -." He stopped talking for a second and shook his head. "Hell, that's what I did anyway, isn't it? Pushed you away. Pushed you right into her - this whole year I just screwed it up one end to the other and I'm sorry. God Sammy, I would've rather stayed in hell than got you hurt like this."

Then something happened that I've never seen in my life and never thought I _would_ see in my life - Dean Winchester started crying, standing there in front of his brother like he didn't have the strength or the presence of mind to walk away. I guess that end of his rope had just slipped right outta his hands.

Sam looked at me like Dean had just sprouted purple snakes out the top of his head and what was I gonna do about it? I just put my hands up in the universal signal 'you're on your own kid' and waited to see what he'd do.

He gripped that book in his hands like maybe it was a shield he could hold between him and his brother.

"Dean? C'mon. You didn't - you never - it wasn't -. Dean? Please, y'gotta - I can't - I wouldn't -. Please? Dean, _please_?"

That wasn't working. Dean was trying to get hold of himself, sniffing and wiping his eyes but not looking up – and not moving away. Sam looked at me again for some help but this was his job. He'd see he needed it as much as Dean.

As soon as he figured out how to do it.

Finally, the light went on, but Sam looked like it was blinding instead of illuminating. Moving slow like he was casing a mine field, he put his arms around Dean and then hugged him hard. And I saw Dean's arms go around him too.

"Dean – Dean, I woulda suffered anything to have you not spend one second in hell. You know that? You know - Dean - I'm sorry. _I'm so sorry_."

The last glimpse I had of them as I turned away to shut off the stove and slip out my back door was of two brothers, alone in misery and together in comfort, finally braving the rapids they'd been let keep them apart.

I gave them an hour or a little more before I came back into the house. I found Dean asleep on my couch and Sam sitting on the floor next to him. All he needed was a fly swatter to make the picture complete.

"Y'eat?" I asked him and he nodded up to me. He'd done some crying himself. "Both of you?" And he nodded again.

Then I asked him the question I was hoping I already knew the answer to.

"Need anything?"

He gave a glance over his shoulder to Dean asleep behind him then looked up at me.

And shook his head.

The End.


End file.
